The Proposal
by Deidara97
Summary: Need I say more? A collection of brief Johnlock fluffs.
1. The Proposal

The rush of warmth brought forth by steady nerves overpowered the chill of the bitter January wind that caressed curly locks. His mind raced with all of the possible outcomes that could unfold on that rooftop. The steady heartbeat of the bustling city could be felt under the moon's gentle glow.

The stirring mind was interrupted by his company's presumptuous tone.

"So, what is it then? Why've you brought me here?" The speaker's hands burrowed into his pockets to combat the cold. As he inquired, he noticed the silvery eyes shift defensively.

"Well, you're hopelessly pathetic at being the romantic in this relationship, so I've to step up to the plate." His gaze shifted down to his partner, and his complexion softened to a smile as his weight shifted from the edge of the retaining wall to his own feet.

"Go on." The blond nodded and tried to fight a smile by avoiding eye contact, shifting his gaze to the tar of the roof beneath their feet.

"Well, I've brought you here to ask you something…" The taller man took a small step closer so that he was well within reach of his lover. "John," an outstretched hand attempted to pull stiff arms out of the coat pockets to which the shorter man declined.

"No, no, _no._" He stood tall, shifting his weight back to his center. "This won't do." demanding eyes shot up under a furrowed brow.

The detective's heart began to race as he wondered what he had done wrong. John was enjoying this.

"On your knee." His hand withdrew and gestured at his side as he spoke firmly. The detective tried his best to stifle a laugh and did as he was told.

As he approached the ground, he readjusted his coat and gingerly reached into the breast pocket. After clearing his throat, he proceeded.

"John Ham-"

"Nh." The blond tilted his head and pursed his lips in disapproval. "I _think_ I know my name, thanks." The nervous expression fell blank as the kneeling man jumped the mental hurdle. The silver in the pleading eyes glimmered in the evening glow.

"Will you marry me?"

"For the love of God, yes I'll marry you!" The words were impatient and rushed, but they still forced an irresistible grin onto both men's rosy cheeks.

Again, a long arm reached out and successfully grabbed hold of a willing left hand. The metallic band matched the glimmer that was now visible in Sherlock's eyes.

"Come here, you lovable prick." He motioned for Sherlock to stand and when he did, John wrapped his arms around him, one around his neck and the other hugged his waist.

As the brunette nestled his chin into the crook of John's shoulder, he let a tear fall from his lashes, accompanied by a slight sniff.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the one crying," John murmured as turned his head, pressing his lips against the warm neck.

"As I said, you're a pathetic romantic." The taller man pulled his head away far enough so that he could face the blond. "I love you, John."

"I know."

Lanky arms pulled him in tightly as his lids fell shut. He felt the warmth of the familiar breath run down his neck as his hand slid deeper into the mess of curls.


	2. You've got to be Joking

"What the hell are you doing?" The words came as a groggy murmur.

"Can't sleep." Long legs propelled the crumpled body closer. Despite the darkness, John's eyes searched for a glimpse of the man's expression. He found it hard to respond as a cold hand landed on his far shoulder and gentle breaths began to dance on his neck.

"What's wrong with your bedroom?" He peered through the darkness and waited for an answer that never came "What do you expect me to do?" The words sounded more irritated than the blond intended.

"Mh…" The arm resting on his chest bobbed up, then down in a weary shrug.

"It isn't unusual… I mean, you _are_ an insomniac." John spoke with exaggerated tenderness to compensate for his previous lashing.

"…Am I not allowed to miss you?" Soft, dark hair brushed John's neck. The blond took a moment for the pain of the sharp words to subside.

"…Sherlock, You could always just say so… 'John, I haven't seen you all day... How are you doing? …Would you like to go to the cinema?'…"

"… Would you like that?" The disbelief in the deep voice shattered John's previous pity.

"…I mean, it'd be nice every once in a while…"

"Oh..." The detective made no attempt to hide the disapproving tone. "Well, alright then… While I'm at it, let me just go change my tamp-y."


	3. Just a Dream

_What now?_

Austere eyes wriggled themselves from the grip of the computer screen as the small lamp beside the bed revealed the doctor, shifting anxiously. _I thought the PTSD would have subsided more than this. Damned therapist doesn't know what she's doing. _

Soft whispers evolved into exasperated pleas before the silent spectator thought to react. He removed the computer from his lap and placed it on the bedside table. Rolling his weight onto one elbow, he placed his arm on the doctor's shoulder and gave it a gentle shove.

"John." The unwavering voice did nothing to attract the man's attention. Another shove, a bit more aggressive. "Wake up, John. You're dreaming." The brunette shifted his weight back to a sitting position and used his other hand to slap the distressed face with increasing intensity.

The attempt only seemed to worsen the struggle. The detective rolled his eyes before grabbing the collar of the white shirt and giving the man a violent shake. As the blond hair was lifted from the pillow, blue eyes shot open in a flurry of panic. The pale arm was grasped by the confused soldier.

"John! It's me, Sherlock, you were having a dream!" The grip John had on the frail arm receded as the realization dawned on him. A sigh of relief came shortly after. "You're alright… It was just a bad dream…" John released his grip and used his hands to prop himself to a sitting position. He decided to break the silence with a clearing of his throat.

"Right… a bad dream…" He was unable to acknowledge the scouring blue eyes as he spoke and looked instead at the bedspread. The lanky arm reached out again, this time in an attempt to comfort, and rested on an unsteady shoulder.

"This isn't the war, John." Sherlock was turned around, facing him now. His neck craned down, and his eyes tried to intercept the vacant stare. "You've no reason to fear."

"I know, I know." John shot back defensively and brushed the arm on his shoulder away. He tried to squirm free from the magnifying gaze of his detective's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to tell the man what the dream had actually been about.

"…Are you alright?" He knew something was out of place. John knew he knew. But he could never tell him.

He could never tell Sherlock he had been tortured with those horrid scenes again and again. He recalled the familiar skin morphing from pale to blue, losing its warmth to John's touch. The pulse was nowhere to be found as the pool of blood grew to encompass them both. He vainly suppressed a shudder as the darkness pulled him deeper, until he was drowning in the cold blood of his best friend, the man he loved.

"Yeah... 'course I'm fine…" A feigned smile did nothing to assure the detective. "This happens... You know that." After a brief pause John reached for a hand, trying desperately to recover the warmth to his friend's dying image. He looked at the slight blush in the pale features and forcibly blinked the haunting corpse out of his mind. He cherished the faint breath on his neck and the gentle tremble more than he ever had before. Even the painful eyes that prodded him for an explanation were beautifully full of life. _I can't ever lose you again… _

"Really, I'm fine... Let's just get some sleep." John used his free hand to turn off the bedside lamp and then tucked himself back into the warmth of the comforter. Even in the darkness, the pressing eyes cast palpable concern. Sherlock moved closer to his soldier and gingerly tucked an arm under him, to which the blond complied. John still held long fingers in his own as he buried his head into the osseous shoulder.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

"…For?"

"For not being dead."


End file.
